


What You Can Live With

by HouseAu3



Series: What You Can Live With [1]
Category: The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Episode: s02e03 Family of Rogues, First Kiss, M/M, Panic Attacks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-08
Updated: 2015-11-08
Packaged: 2018-04-30 15:17:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,367
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5168663
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HouseAu3/pseuds/HouseAu3
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The nightmares were the first to come.</p><p>What happens after the end of Family of Rogues. Canon divergence after the episode.</p>
            </blockquote>





	What You Can Live With

The nightmares were the first to come.

They all started the same way. Len was back in the vault, gun raised at Barry with Lewis at his side. Only Lisa was there with them, eyes filled with helpless fear barely concealed. From there, it went differently every night. Sometimes the bomb went off first, splattering blood and brains and broken bones, leaving her headless body on the floor, a grotesque tableau with the wet and disgustingly sweet smell of death; afterwards he always killed Lewis with his barehands, knocking him to the ground and strangling him, looking into the dark and mocking eyes.

Sometimes he shot Barry before that could happen, encasing him in thick ice, and Lewis would either shatter Barry with bullets, or make Len shatter him. The broken pieces of his supposed enemy didn’t bring him any satisfaction, but a great hollowness somewhere deep in his chest. Then, Len sometimes shot Lewis with no consideration of consequences, and most of the time Lisa got blown up for his recklessness. Sometimes he didn’t kill Lewis, and was forced to pull heist after heist with the man, wrecking up the city with no reservation.

Sometimes Lewis and Barry were both dead, but Lisa was alive and that should be enough, shouldn’t it? That had always been enough for him. Except it wasn’t. He retched and trembled and stared, only moving when Lisa pulled him away and ran. Even then his eyes were still fixed on Barry’s broken body, as if trying to burn the image into his brains, so that he would remember this feeling, of helplessness, of rage, of regret.

The dreams woke him up in the middle of every night, but he could handle a little insomnia. He was no stranger to nightmares, after all, and he didn’t live to this age without learning how to deal with them. He kept his distance, treating his dreams the way one would with a movie. In the end they were merely the creation of his brain. There was no use dwelling on the past, especially one that had never happened.

The panic attacks were inconvenient, to put it mildly.

It had been years, decades, even, since the last time he had one. Now he had them all the damn time, seized by unreasonable and paralyzing fear, heart beating fast and breathing unsteady. He knew what was happening. He even knew before it happened, sometimes. He couldn’t stop it from happening, though, couldn’t fight something that was within his own head, couldn’t fight anything when his body and mind were turning against him.

He was almost thankful, when he was transferred into the metahuman wing and kept isolated from other inmates. It would be harder to break out, but he wasn’t fit to do that in this state anyway.

Every day, he woke up from a nightmare, ate, showered, ate, read, ate, and then slept, waiting for the next nightmare to come. It wasn’t anything he hadn’t dealt with before. He was the kind of person who could live in his own head for years. Now, however, he was wary of his own mind, lest it turned against him. There was only so much he could do to distract himself from his thoughts; it was only natural that he ended up focusing on his talk with Barry, repeating every word out of the too red mouth in his head, replaying all the minute changes of expression on the too open face. It helped that they were talking in prison, with the glass separating them, and that Barry was wearing plain clothes. It was a confined setting too different from their past encounters, especially _that_ encounter, for his thoughts to wander somewhere he didn’t want them to.

So he thought about his talk with Barry, and waited, not as patiently as he’d like, for their next meeting.

*

“You look terrible,” was the first thing Barry blurted out when he saw him. The kid hadn’t even sat down, and Len only understood him because he could read lips.

“You sure know how to make a man feel good about himself, Scarlet,” Len said after Barry picked up the phone, and watched in satisfaction as Barry flushed red in embarrassment. He had the worst poker face Len had ever seen on a grown man, if it could even be called one.

“How did you hear that?”

Len hummed. “What do you think?”

Barry opened his mouth, and then quickly shut it. A pity he didn’t rise to the bait, but Len was pleased to have caught him off guard nonetheless. This, at least, was something he could count on. Barry Allen would always be easy to read, and Len could always rile him up with only a few choice words.

“Ass,” Barry muttered, not even bothered to try to keep Len from hearing it. “Seriously, though, you look like you haven’t been sleeping for weeks.”

Len cocked his head. “What is it to you?”

“I’m _worried_.” And he clearly was. It didn’t take someone observant to see it in his knitted eyebrows, his bright warm eyes, and the tight line of his lips. “Last I checked, it’s not illegal to worry about someone’s well-being.”

“Not illegal, but curious, why you would worry about the well-being of a known criminal.” Len pulled his lips into a smirk. “Some might even find it questionable.”

Barry shrugged. “They don’t know you like I do.”

“ _You don’t know me_ ,” Len snapped before he could think better of it. He really should have stopped being so defensive about it. It was to his advantage to have the Flash overestimating his morality. He should have been encouraging it, instead of the other way around. But he just didn’t get it. Barry was always easy to read, but it didn’t make him easy to understand. Len sure as hell didn’t know what the kid saw in him, and why he visited him in the first place.

“I know _something_.” He looked Len straight in the eyes, a small smile tugging at his lips. Len stared, suppressing the urge to scoff at him. If he still thought Len was redeemable even after the sabotage, clearly there was something wrong with him, and his judgement couldn’t be trusted.

“Your naivety is going to get you killed one day.” And Len wouldn’t want that to happen, he didn’t say, because that, that was not a thought he had ever expected to have, and it was… unnerving.

“I’m pretty sure my recklessness would kill me first,” Barry joked, but it didn’t really sound like a joke. Len pushed the image of Barry’s lifeless body out of his head, and swallowed down the disgust welling up in his throat. He knew he would have to deal with this inconvenient compassion one day, but for now, it was easier to ignore it.

“Tell me how she is doing,” Len said in the end, and settled for listening.

*

He didn’t get any better with the dreams and panic attacks, so he wasn’t surprised that Barry got even more worried the next time he saw him.

“I - transferring you to the metahuman wing was a bad idea. I’m so sorry. What was I thinking?”

That was new. Len didn’t know it had anything to do with Barry, but he supposed it made sense. That at least implied that Barry wasn’t as trusting as Len had thought he was, which was good. He couldn’t get back to the normal prison, though. He had too many weaknesses now, and he had more enemies in the normal sector than in the metahuman wing. He couldn’t go back until he had a breakout plan.

“I like it here,” Len said. “It’s quieter, and much less crowded.”

“But you look - ”

“What, you expect me to look the same in prison as I do out of it?”

Barry frowned, staring at him with piercing eyes. Len was reminded, then, that Barry was actually good at his day job. Bright and observant, the report had said. He was seeing it now, the way Barry’s eyes looked him over, cataloging every scar and blemish and dark shadow. His frown deepened every time he saw… something, and Len felt oddly exposed, vulnerable, even.

He hated feeling vulnerable.

“See something you like, Scarlet?”

“What?” Barry spluttered, snapped out of his trance.

“You were practically undressing me with your eyes,” Len drawled, leering at Barry for the optimum effect. It wasn’t hard to distract Barry with a little flirtatious look. He didn’t even need to fake the attraction. “My oh my, whatever will the good citizens of Central City say about that?”

“I wasn’t checking you out!” Barry exclaimed, and then ducked his head when he realized how loud he had been. He looked up at Len with accusing eyes, face a vibrant red. “You are a terrible person.”

Len chuckled, perhaps a little too genuinely, and smothered his smile with a smirk. “I keep telling you that.”

“I didn’t mean - I wasn’t saying that in a serious way. I mean, it’s more like what people say when they’re being teased by a friend, not that we are friends, not yet anyway.” Barry groaned, pressing his forehead against the glass. “God, why do you have to be so difficult.”

“You can always stop trying,” Len said easily, and felt his stomach twisted with dread. For a moment he regretted saying this to push Barry away, because what would he do if Barry stopped visiting altogether? But he shouldn’t have relied on someone to get through his time in jail, to distract him from his nightmares. It was too dangerous, too much power he was putting in Barry’s hand.

“Nah,” Barry said, looking up through his eyelashes. “I’ve been told I’m a stubborn man.” The glass between them fogged up by warm breaths, his words a promise hanging in the space between them. Len felt the urge to smash the glass and, did what, he wasn’t entirely sure, but something. Something to close this distance, to peel off all the pretense so that the other man could truly see, and ran away or stayed for good.

“You are a stubborn fool,” Len said.

Barry huffed. “I’m foolishly stubborn. There’s a difference.”

*

The next few days, Len tried his best not to think about Barry, not the talks they’d had, not the talk they were going to have. It was a calculated risk. Between letting himself be vulnerable to his own mind and to other people, it seemed obvious what his choice should be.

That was what he thought, anyway, and that was probably the reason why he was lying on the floor, curled into himself, struggling to breathe, his vision dark and blurry. He was dimly aware that a warden had come to check up on him, but seemed unsure if he was faking it. Len wanted to laugh, because this was a strategy he had thought about employing. He reckoned this display of weakness could be beneficial to him in the future. They would be more inclined to believe he was having a panic attack when he was trying to break out.

“Snart!” Outside his cell came Barry’s voice. Len would have chided him for showing his concern so openly, and he shouldn’t have been here anyway, but it was difficult for Len to even stay conscious, let alone to talk. He shut his eyes and focused on breathing. He would have preferred not to let Barry know about this, but it couldn’t be helped now. He could only try to use this to his advantage.

“Hey, hey, are you hurt? What happened?” Len felt leather-clad hands cradling his head and he blinked. Barry was suddenly in his cell with him, looking down at him with wide eyes, his face tight with concerns under the cowl. “Talk to me, Snart. Tell me how I can help.” Len blinked again, trying to shake away the haziness of his mind. Did the warden let Barry - let the Flash in? “Leonard!”

“Don’t call me that,” Len croaked, his voice weak and grating to his own ears. It probably said something about him that he chose this moment to start talking, but he hated this name Lewis had given him, would have hated his last name too if it hadn’t been something he and Lisa shared.

“All right. Just - ” Flash helped him upright and let him lean against the wall. “You aren’t hurt, are you?”

“No.”

“Influenced by some meta?”

“No.”

“Then why are you - ”

Len choked out a laugh, broken and brittle. “It’s a panic attack, Scarlet. Ever heard of it?”

“Oh, _oh_ , I just - ” And then he was Barry again in Len’s mind. It was hard not to when Len was staring into the too warm eyes. Len wasn’t sure if that made Barry a terrible superhero, or a great one. “I didn’t think you have those.”

Len snorted. “Because I’m heartless?”

“No!” Barry shifted to have his back to the outside before pulling off his cowl, keeping anyone other than Len from seeing his face - Wasn’t it funny, that Barry chose to show himself to Len, of all people? “It’s just - You always seem fearless and calm no matter the circumstances, and I guess I kind of admire you for that?”

Len raise an eyebrow. “Admire? Really, Scarlet, a criminal like me?”

Barry rolled his eyes. “I can admire part of you without agreeing with what you do, you know.”

Len did know, to some degree. He felt something similar for the kid afterall. “People are going to talk. You rushing into my cell, showing your face to me, talking about your admiration - ” Len paused. The word felt weird on his tongue. “Make you look bad.”

Barry shrugged. “If they want someone unforgiving and distrustful, they are in the wrong city.”

 _Or you are in the wrong world_ , Len thought. The world was too cruel a place for someone this naive. One day Barry would get burned so thoroughly that he lost himself, or he would get himself killed before that.

“Um, Flash?” the warden standing outside called, voice hesitant. “Everything all right?”

“Peachy,” Barry said with feigned nonchalance, grinning wide at Len, and Len couldn’t help the genuine laugh startled out of his mouth.

“Stealing your enemy’s line, kid? Didn’t know you have it in you.”

“What can I say? Your sense of humor is growing on me.” Barry pulled on his cowl, his eyes crinkling. “Take care, Snar - What should I call you? Lenny?”

“No, that one time was enough.” It surprised him how he was able to talk about that day without reliving the pain and anger, but he supposed not everything happened then was bad. Barry was many things, but he certainly wasn’t that.

“Call me Len,” he found himself saying. He never wanted to be called Leonard, but Snart didn’t seem appropriate, not anymore; he didn’t exactly like his last name, anyway.

He was fond of the name Ramon gave him, but that wasn’t who they were right now. The kid so proud of himself for the inside joke wasn’t the Flash, and Len wasn’t Captain Cold at this moment.

“Take care, Len.” Barry smiled and tentatively laid his hand on Len’s shoulder to give it a squeeze. It was oddly easy for him to allow the touch. It helped that Barry couldn’t be more different from Lewis. And he was tired now. Maybe he would have reacted differently had he not been. “I’ll see you around.”

The warden opened the glass door to let Barry out, and Barry was off in a flash - Len snorted. The puns just couldn’t be helped, really - robbing the woman of any chance to demand answers from the local superhero. Len briefly considered making a run for it, simply for the entertainment value, but decided against it. That would only make his future escape harder.

“Don’t you hate it when he just runs off like that?” Len said conversationally. “He does that all the time. No consideration for us mere mortals.”

“You aren’t a meta?” the warden asked, surprised. Len filed that piece of information away in his head. It might come in handy.

“No,” Len replied. “I just have friends who are.” The warden frowned, obviously bothered by the injustice she thought this was. Len smiled at her, making sure to add in a touch of resignation. “I am capable of trouble much bigger than most metas.”

She held his gaze briefly and nodded once before walking away from his cell.

*

Len was a practical man, but the next few days, he allowed himself to dream.

Not nightmares of possibilities clinging to him like a particularly needy lover, monopolizing his night and crowding his thoughts with searing pain and ugly deaths, but dreams of the impossible often shoved to the back of his mind, because they left him with an aching sense of longing and deep regrets.

Len dreamed about what he and Lisa’s life would have been like, if the Flash had existed back then. He imagined the bright red streak whisking Lewis away before he could hurt them, and Barry coming back to help as best he could. He imagined having a real home instead of a place they ran away from. He imagined a life for Lisa where the only pain she would have ever known was papercut and cramps, the only heartbreak she would have experience was from dying pets and innocent love, and the only fear she would have had was of clowns and horror movies and final exams.

He dreamed about what could have been, if some cop, any cop, had noticed the abuse and helped. They could have had a normal life, and grown to be extraordinary someday. Lisa could have flirted with Ramon because she had wanted to, and they could have dated without baggages. He could have met Barry under very different circumstances. They might become friends, even something more.

Then, he dreamed about what could happen when he got out.

He had heard from Barry how Lisa and Ramon had bonded, and how Ramon was the one who came up with a way to extract the bomb. That changed things. They had had a fragile truce with the Flash and his partners, but now it was cemented, in a manner of speaking. Len and Lisa were both fiercely protective by nature. Now that Lisa considered Ramon a real friend, she would never allow any harm done to the scientist, and Len would have helped her. They would be part of the rescue team, so to speak, if Ramon was ever in need of rescuing.

And, a treacherous part of his brain supplied, if the Flash was in danger, as well. He wouldn’t follow the Flash around to keep him safe, but he couldn’t stand by and watch when there was a threat to the Flash, even just a potential one. Len told himself it was because Central City would be in utter chaos without its hero, but if he was really honest with himself, it had more to do with who the Flash was out of the suit. Under the cowl, it was Barry Allen, bleeding heart on his sleeve and undying urge to protect in his blood, someone who had gone from an inconvenience to an obsession to a problem.

They were still enemies, but they couldn’t be only enemies, not anymore.

What would they be, Len wondered, if not that?

*

Barry came in with a limp and bruises on his face and neck. The injury must had been recent, and much more serious than it was now. What really caught Len’s attention, though, was how lost Barry looked. He looked like someone who had just had his world shattered and didn’t even know where the pieces were.

"You look better," Barry said. He managed a smile, but a twisted one at best.

"You look worse," Len replied, staring at the dark purple blooming on Barry's right cheek.

“Long day.” It seemed that Barry wanted to say more, but he stopped himself. He looked small and vulnerable when he leaned against the glass. “Can I ask you a question?”

Len would have said no, and maybe should have said no, but the slight tremor in Barry’s voice made it hard to do so. “It depends,” he said instead.

Barry lowered his eyes. “How did you… break bad?” He paused and took a deep breath before he continued to ask, “How did you know you have - have been - ”

“Turned to the dark side?” Len supplied. Barry smiled a little at his attempt of levity.

“Something like that.”

Len had no idea what brought this on, but it was obvious how scared Barry was. He wanted to say that he couldn’t imagine a world where Barry was capable of doing bad, but that would be a lie. He knew better than most how thin the line between good and bad was. He would even say there wasn’t a line at all.

“There wasn’t a point where we simply decided to be bad people, Barry. There were only moments we thought we didn’t have a choice.” It brought to mind the life he had dreamed for both Lisa and himself. Was there anything he could have done differently that would have led to that life? “Then it became what we did. Then it became who we were.”

Barry was silent save for the faint sound of his shallow breaths. Len watched without a word and waited. He had always been a patient man.

“Watch,” Barry whispered, and started to speak without making a sound. _I’ve killed metas without much thoughts_ , Barry mouthed, carefully wrapping his lips around each silent word. _I’ve imprisoned metas with no thoughts at all, and they would have stayed that way for possibly the rest of their life if not for you._

 _And you only realize that now?_ Len wanted to ask, but what he said was, “You are far from my level, Scarlet. Heart of gold and all.”

“Good intention or not, I’ve been wrong.” _And who will watch the watchman?_ Barry asked with a wry smile. It felt wrong to see that expression on him. His face wasn’t made for bitter sarcasm.

“I can’t give you reassurance or definite answers, kid. Doesn’t work that way.”

“I know. Isn’t what I’m asking for.” Barry sighed, rubbing at his temple. “I’m a self-righteous prick.”

“Well, can’t argue with that,” Len said dryly. Barry huffed out a brief laugh.

 _Asshole._ The movement of Barry’s mouth was slow and exaggerated. _I don’t know why I came to you with this._

 _Prick_ , Len mouthed back in the same deliberate fashion, earning him another laugh. “Why indeed.”

Of all the people Barry knew, there had to be someone more suitable for this conversation. He shouldn’t have opened up to people like Len, who could have used this knowledge against him.

“Well, you aren’t really the first one I talk to.” Barry snorted. “Guess what they all said? _‘You are a good kid, Barry. Just be yourself.’_ They could believe my dad killed my mom, but not that I can turn bad? I’ve been so stupid. It’s my fault that - ” _I was the reason the singularity appeared in the first place!_ Barry said angrily. It was quite impressive how he could shout without making a sound. _But they all call me a hero and the mayor gave me a damn key!_

 _Ah_ , Len thought, _so this is why the Flash had been going solo for months_. He knew, without a doubt, that Barry had never meant to create the singularity, but it didn’t matter, did it? The way to hell had been paved and people had died because of it. It didn’t change anything whatever his reason had been.

“Be honest with yourself, Barry. Live with the consequences of your own decisions." Len wasn't entirely sure why he was offering advice to Barry. And why the hell was Barry listening? He huffed out a soundless laugh. Lisa would have laughed her head off by now. "Don't do things you can't live with."

Barry was silent for a moment. Then a small smile crawled onto his face. “That actually sounds wise. I didn’t know you have it in you.”

“Wisdom came with age,” Len said dryly. “You should listen to your elderly.”

Barry barked out a laugh. “You are like, what, ten years older than I am?”

Len smirked. “I’m forty-three.”

“No way!” Barry said with what sounded suspiciously like a giggle. “You must be a meta. You just didn’t know you are.”

“Why, Barry. That was the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.”

Yep. Now that was definitely a giggle. “Shut up. I say nice things all the time. You just weren’t around to hear them.”

“Hm, in that case, I suppose we should get to know each other better.”

Barry looked up to meet his eyes with a warm smile. At that moment, it felt like the glass didn’t exist and they weren’t talking through phones. There was a connection more intimate than an embrace from a sibling or a kiss between lovers. Len hadn’t realized he had moved at all until he was leaning against the glass as well, his forehead in line with Barry’s, their eyes impossibly close.

“Thanks, Len.”

Len stared at the eyelashes almost brushing the glass. He was overwhelmed with the urge to touch, feeling them tickling his fingertips, or kiss, watching them fluttering open like wings. It was ridiculous, and probably a warning sign that Len was getting in too deep.

“Go to sleep, Barry.”

Fleetingly, Barry’s finger traced along the line of Len’s cheek. Brief like a trick of eyes. “Be seeing you.”

 _You will be the death of me_ , Len didn’t say. “Of course.”

*

The blue speedster came before Len saw Barry again.

It was midnight, six to one to be exact. The muffled scream was distant, but distinct enough for him to make out. He sat up, staring out of his cell. The meta human wing had always been quiet at night, but now even the footsteps of the wardens were absent.

Then, at a blink of his eyes, a masked hooded man appeared, completely devoid of color save for the dissipating blue static around him. He put his hand on the wall and started vibrating. The humming got louder and louder, until the wall was broken into pieces and there was nothing between the man and Len. It wasn’t an ideal situation. Len didn’t have an effective weapon against a speedster.

“I don’t suppose you are here to break me out out of the goodness of your heart?”

The man cocked his head slightly. “You are not a metahuman.”

His tone was neutral. Len couldn’t tell if him not being a meta made him dispensable. “Why do you care?”

The man stared at him for a moment, or rather, Len assumed the man was staring at him. “I don’t.” He grabbed Len by the arm and suddenly he was thrown into a room full of people. Len looked around. He didn’t recognize every one of them, but he was pretty sure most here were metas brought in by the Flash.

He didn’t like where this was going.

"The Flash will be here soon." The man jumped onto a table. His voice wasn't loud, but it commanded attention, and attention he got. Every pair of eyes in the room were following him, wary and calculating. Len noticed the dried blood on the sleeves of the man's black coat. He wondered what some of the metas in this room had witnessed him doing.

"Kill him, or I'll kill you."

Len expected an outrage erupting, but nothing happened, not even a protest or a taunt. He considered saying something. He was, after all, the only non-meta in this room. Without his gun, he couldn't do much when the fight started. He would only be a liability to the Flash if he stayed. He doubted the man would be sympathetic to his reasoning, though. He couldn’t draw attention to himself, lest the man used him as leverage.

As soon as the man disappeared to God-knows-where, the Flash rushed in. Chaos ensued. Len cursed the Flash under his breath for being so reckless, running in headlong on his own. He rolled away from a blast of fire knocked awry by a thrown body and tripped the man who was slashing at the Flash with fingers made of blades. He kept his head down as he made way for the back door, subtly sabotaging attempts of attack at the Flash, taking care to keep himself out of the Flash's sight.

He needed a weapon.

He sneaked out of the door. There was a warden lying dead in the hallway. Len found a regular gun and a dart gun on him. It wasn't much, but it was something.

Hearing footsteps behind him, he whipped around with the regular gun raised. The masked man looked at him. His face was hidden, but Len could see from the relaxed stance that the man was thoroughly unimpressed.

"Running away?"

Len pulled back the safety. "I can't kill him with my bare hands."

The man inclined his head. "And now?"

"I still can't."

The man made a sound. It sounded like laughter. "Do try," he said, and then he was gone again. Len couldn't see him, but he felt watched. He walked back into the room, into chaos. Most of the metas had been subdued, either knocked out or tied up by devices that looked like Ramon's handiwork. Len shot at the space between the Flash and the diamond woman grappling with him. The Flash pushed her away and turned to him, his eyes widening in recognition. Len charged at him before he could say anything and twisted the Flash's arms around. "Break my arm," Len whispered into his ear. "Another speedster is watching."

The Flash flung them both into the wall, knocking the wind out of Len. He twisted his head back to look at Len, his exposed eyes betraying his worry. Len should suggested Ramon to cover up Barry’s eyes. It was a glaring weakness anyone could see as long as they cared to watch.

 _I can't_ , Barry mouthed. _You can't ask me to hurt you._

Sighing inwardly, Len swirled them around and pressed the gun barrel against Barry's temple. He schooled his expression into indifference before he met Barry's eyes and curled his finger around the trigger. "Do it before I shoot you."

Barry gripped his right wrist and swallowed, his hand trembling. Len felt a fond exasperation welling up in his chest. He sighed, took hold of his own wrist as if he was prying Barry's hand away, and popped his own joint.

He gasped in pain, letting the gun fall from his hand. Barry bit into his lips to stop himself from reacting. Len nodded at Barry and let Barry throw him to the ground. Scrambling up, he took out the dart gun with his left hand and shot it at the next person lunging at Barry. He cursed like he had hit the wrong target and lowered his gun.

“Zoom!” Barry yelled as he put the device on the meta Len had just shot. “Stop this nonsense and come face me yourself!”

“Be careful of what you wish for,” the distorted voice came from above. Len barely had the time to react before the ceiling was falling down, and with the debris, the masked man - Zoom. Len dropped down to the ground, lying down near the broken tiles, and watched from behind his cover.

Barry, with too big a heart and too bad a poker face, spotted Len and made a sound of distress. It wasn’t loud, but it was loud enough for Zoom to take notice. Len could only shut his eyes and pretended to be unconscious. The kid really would be the dead of him one day, and Len wouldn’t even blame him.

A cold hand gripped him by his broken wrist. He chanced a glance and saw Barry staring at him with wild eyes, his hand tight around the raised cold gun.

At least he had done some preparation.

“Put him down,” Barry said.

“Why?” Zoom asked in a flat voice, tightening his grip on Len’s wrist. Len clenched his teeth to stop himself from crying in pain. “You won’t shoot when I have him.”

Len twisted around and hit hard at Zoom’s neck with his left elbow. Zoom let out a startled cry and started wheezing, letting go of Len’s wrist. Barry took the chance to shoot at Zoom, but he managed to dodge it with a roll to the side.

The vibrated hand barely missed Len’s neck. The brush of skin alone was enough to make a shallow cut. Len dropped down and kicked at the blurred legs. Zoom stumbled, but quickly regained his balance and lunged at Len. A bright red trail knocked the blue one sideway before it could hit Len.

There was a tousle too quick for Len’s eyes to follow. Then the two speedsters came to a brief pause, and the cold gun was knocked out of Barry’s hand. Len rushed for the gun, but Zoom got to it first and shot at him. He cursed and blocked it with his right arm. His brain had barely registered the loss of feeling in his limb when Zoom broke his frozen arm into pieces.

He felt oddly calm, considered his right arm was now gone, completely and irreversibly. He could suddenly see everything in utmost clarity, as if the world was a dream in slow motion. Barry cried out his name, horrified. Barry tackled Zoom, growling like a wild animal. The cold gun dropped down on the floor; Len picked it up. Zoom forced his thumb into Barry’s eye; Barry screamed. Zoom threw Barry off; Len shot him.

He walked up to Zoom and kicked at his head to crush it.

“Len?” Barry’s voice was soft and hoarse. Len looked down at him, staring at his close, bleeding eye. It took a moment for Len to find his voice.

“He owed you an eye,” Len said. It felt like a confession.

Barry held his gaze in silence. Then he said, “And he owed you an arm.”

Len held out his left hand to Barry, and Barry took it, letting Len pull him up. They were merely inches apart when Barry stood up, and Len couldn’t stop his gaze from dropping to Barry’s split lips. Barry was barely breathing when Len leaned in and licked the blood off his bottom lip.

“I’m going to pass out,” Len whispered against Barry’s mouth. “Sorry about that.”

“I’ll take care of everything,” Barry said, holding Len close as Len slipped out of consciousness.

*

Len woke up in a room that was definitely not his cell. It was, he realized once he could blink past the haziness, the St. Andrews hospital. It had been more than a decade since he last stepped foot in a legitimate hospital, even longer since he was a patient in one.

“Morning,” from the doorway came Barry’s voice. Most of his injury had healed without leaving marks. The only remainder from his fight with Zoom was his bloodshot left eye. There was, however, a faint bruise on his right cheek Len didn’t remember from the fight.

Noticing Len’s look, Barry said with a smile, “Lisa. She knows how to throw a punch.”

He didn’t need to say anything else. Len knew Lisa too well to need further explanation. “I taught her well. How’s she?”

“Good.” Barry sat down on the edge of the bed, his body warm against Len’s thigh. “Having breakfast with Cisco at Jitters. She’s going to smuggle you something.”

Len nodded. “How are you?”

“All right.” Barry shrugged. “Caitlin thinks my eye will make a full recovery in time.”

“Good.” Len didn’t ask about himself. He knew what he was risking when he blocked the shot with his arm; he could, and would, live with the consequences. “When am I going back?”

Barry’s grin was sudden and bright. “Never.”

Len felt his eyebrows jump up. Barry’s grin grew even wider. It was, after all, very rare for Len to be caught off guard, but he couldn’t get annoyed at Barry’s smug face. “I’m shocked, Barry. What have you done?”

“Nothing illegal, I assure you, not that you’d care.” Barry took Len’s hand in his and held it on his laps. “Your record was - you know. And everything happened that day could be disputed.”

“So I walk free.”

“Yep.” Barry was now tracing the lines on Len’s palm. It was distracting, to say the least. “The Flash might have shown up and told everyone how you’d helped him defeat the evil mastermind. It made things go faster.”

Len snorted. “I don’t imagine everyone’s happy with you.”

“I’ll live with it,” Barry said simply, “and I’ll live with this, too.” He leaned down to press their lips together. Len blinked and blinked and blinked, wasn’t quite sure what was happening. When he finally realized that, yes, Barry was kissing him, Barry was already pulling away. Len made a grab at him with the wrong hand and ended up poking Barry’s cheek with the stump.

Guilt flashed through Barry’s eyes, and Len didn’t want that. He snatched his left hand out of Barry’s grip to hold onto the back of Barry’s neck, sitting up and pulling Barry down at the same time so that they could meet in the middle. Barry’s probing tongue was tentative, but not hesitant. Len opened up for him, reveling in the slow exploration and gentle heat. It was different from what he was used to, and what he had expected.

“Turning to the dark side?” Len asked, giving Barry’s bottom lip a gentle bite.

Barry laughed and pressed their foreheads together. “Turning to the light side?”

Len hummed. “I suppose we will have to wait and see.”

Barry pressed a kiss under Len’s eye.

“Looking forward to it.”

**Author's Note:**

> ...because this just wouldn't leave my head.


End file.
